One Day At A Time

Going South, The Alice Bands

Since I went to Bath I’ve been on an emotional yo-yo. Admittedly since I came home in October my moods haven’t gone from completely hyper to crying my eyes out alone, but I am still struggling somewhat to maintain the even keel I used to. Prior to Bath I was blissfully happy, I had the most wonderful friends in the world, loved sixth form and the hard work it entailed, had a job that paid well, was convenient, all my friends did and frankly was lots of fun too and somehow I’d managed to acquire the loveliest boff in the world. I had a defined path, I knew what I wanted.

The only shadow was Bath. I knew for a long time I didn’t want to go, but I went anyway. Giving it a shot would have been the advice I got anyway, so it made sense to keep my fears to myself and try it.

It didn’t, as regular readers will know, work. I spent a month in utter hell.

I came home, and hoped that would fix things. It didn’t. I prayed the return of Dominic would somehow magically restore my self confidence and perma-happy self. It would appear there is no quick fix for the after effects of Bath.

Since Bath I lost the vast majority of my confidence in my work and my abilities. For a long time I considered myself unattractive, I didn’t seem to register on people radar, so I threw myself into work and being GOOD at things, at pretty much anything. So sitting in a classroom three times a week feeling SO stupid is something I’m unhappy about; I’m not good at not being good at things. To find Chemsitry such a struggle shook the little confidence I had left.
Since Bath I lost my direction, I picked a nice safe course that I know I can be good at. I have no idea where I want to go next year, I have so little interest and motivation for anything it’s frightening. Frankly the thought of university is terrifying. More accurately the thought of it being like Bath all over again is terrifying.

I’m not used to being devoid of motivation, intelligence or confidence. The last 2 years I have spent on a total high, for the reasons listed at the start of my blog(g), so to feel so depressed is even more depressing, I had further to fall.

The last couple of days I finally spoke to people, (the people namely being Dominic and my mum.) Bottling things up until they explode into a spell of tears and depression is not good, but is annoyingly the way I seem to deal with big things.

I feel better having talked to people, and I know that eventually I’ll get my confidence back and I won’t be so scared. It might just take some time.

Love and Huggles, Claire